Rifle and gun fire continued all day from both sides. The enemy swept 174 Metre and Division Hills with his guns, while our own artillery in turn swept the plains below, as the enemy offered no good target anywhere.
Having suffered considerably from our rifle fire, the enemy lay low and did not attempt to make a general assault. A Japanese column had worked round our left flank and essayed to attack Height 426, but the hostile troops were held up by the wire entanglements and were entirely annihilated by our 2nd Scout Detachment, which had been strengthened by two sections of the 3rd Company from 174 Metre Hill.
We suffered severely from the enemy’s artillery fire.
Thus passed the whole of that day (August 14). The two batteries of Colonel Petrov and Colonel Romanovski, posted on Division Hill, sought in vain for targets, but the enemy kept under cover with remarkable skill.
There were constant alarms during the following night, and firing continued without ceasing. The enemy again attacked our trenches, but retreated after losing heavily. In order to be ready to beat back a night attack, we had moved the reserve nearer to the firing line. Knowing every inch of the ground, at about 10 p.m. I started off with Colonel Irman and two companies towards Headquarter Hill. There was fairly heavy firing in front of us.
We went on full of assurance, but in the darkness we lost the road. We took our bearings by the features of well-known hills, yet these same hills seemed now to be quite different from those we knew so well by day, and the sound of shots rang out from all sides more loudly the farther we advanced.
Now we must have reached Headquarter Hill—but no! it was not there. The firing was soon heard, not only in front and from the flanks, but also far in rear. We found ourselves in a very unpleasant position. “Do you think we have gone beyond our firing line?” I said to Colonel Irman. He answered that he had not the faintest idea where he was. Then I proposed that we should halt and send out scouts.
What if we were taken for Japanese by our own people and met by a volley! That would be awkward indeed. So we halted and had a good look round, but the place was absolutely unfamiliar. Still, firing was going on all around. It was the most stupid position I have ever been in. “Let us turn back, Vladimir Nicholaievitch,” I said to Colonel Irman; “we shall certainly reach some place that we can recognize, and then we shall be all right.”
Colonel Irman agreed, and we turned “right-about.” Some time passed, and at last we made out the silhouette of Namako Yama, and once more breathed freely.